


A Night with Hawkeye and Hawkeye

by ThatSoChangeableChick



Series: Hawkeye and Hawkeye [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bonding, Family, Family Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1990299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSoChangeableChick/pseuds/ThatSoChangeableChick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bond between Clint and Kate is familial; this is a little insight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night with Hawkeye and Hawkeye

It took an embarrassingly long amount of time for him to realize where he was. To his defense the only light source was the faint sliver of moonlight creeping past the shutters and curtains. His head also wasn't facing the doorway which was really unfortunate.

  
He could go about this two ways; one was leave his back to the creeper of the night, sneaking into his sheets; or he toss his head and catch them in the act. Where was he again? It didn't feel like his apartment, too much air conditioning for that. Not enough sirens in close proximity. Where was he again? Oh, yeah.

  
Clint was pretty sure there had been some fanged beast in desperate need of mouthwash trampling him in the mix but really, he's too tired to deal with that. Was Bobbi in the mansion? Was Jessica? Was their a female in the mansion he hadn't slept with? Maybe Nat was right and he was a whore. Serves him right at this point.

  
Anyway, back on point, creeper in his room at...by the angle of moon, it was about three in the freaking morning...he just got trampled on yesterday, again, this was not the time for a booty call. Well...maybe, it could be.

  
There was a clasp on his ankle and really, he can't be blamed for what happened next. Basically it involved his stashed knife making a star appearance and no that was not an innuendo for something. He tossed it at the assailants head, a feminine yell followed that and very soon his foot was in a vice grip. Did that manicure feel familiar?

  
Considering he was bleary headed, his body was tenser than a man with his wife and lover in the same air space. Which Clint wouldn't really know anything about how that was like, but if it was anything similar than having his exes (nearly all of which excel in shiving sharp pointing objects into peoples necks) than he had a very good inkling. It sucked, basically.

  
"Clint, you idiot,” that sounded about right. He still had no idea who was talking, he blinked down, rubbing an eye and only catching a glint in the head area.

  
He yawned, elbowing up, “Yeah, can I get some more info here...” he yawned widely, “I'm a bit beat.” He rested his head on the pillow, it was a comfy pillow. A good pillow, he jostled into a comfier position shaking off the vice on his ankle.

  
The person above him sighed, padding across the floorboards and squatting by his face if the puff of hot air on his nose was anything to go by. “What?” he whined, peering out of one eye. “Oh,” realization took time to set in. He was an idiot. “I am an idiot,” he said.

  
Kate Bishop, a woman to his own heart, exhaled heavily again. Clint feared she would be set into early adulthood. Wasn't that an awful thought? He shuffled onto his back, pressing his knuckles to his forehead. Let him just wake up here, “Yeah,” she concurred. “But I forgive you, alla alien creature stomping over you in Time square.” They were meant to meet up weren't they? He was an idiot.

  
Clint groaned, massaging the bridge of his nose, “Thanks.” He blinks up at her, the faint ray of moonlight illuminating the sheen in her hair and eyes and the furrow in her brows. “Did everyone see it?” The face she pulled was pretty self explanatory. He groaned again, loudly, lording onto his side, away from her.

  
She patted his bicep, using it to rock onto her feet, “You've had worse. You let of the winning shot, that counts for something,” she added. Clint was not a holy man by any means, but bless Kate Bishop, a better person then he'd ever be. There was a clank as she set her bow down, he'd heard the sound enough to recognize it.

  
He blinked again, squinting as she rounded the bed and collapsed atop it with a loud sigh and a lot of rattling of Clin't's nearly old bones. “I'm missing something,” it wasn’t even a question at this point. Think Clint, you may have a concussion but at this point it should be a simple thing to do. Maybe it was one to many cognitive re-calibrations. “Wait, how did you even get in?”  
"Oh,” she splayed her hair over her shoulder, curling into her side to face him. “Hot Loki let me in,” she answered simply, yawning into a fist and sighing into her cupped hands.

  
Clint blinked at her, maybe just because of the low light, but he didn't really have any words. “No,” was what came out, “Just...” he exhaled, burying his head into the pillow. “Explain...” he waited, “Just, please,” he added because he maybe a carnie but he had manners, sometimes...eeh, not really.

  
Kate loosened the strap of her top, and Clint closed his eyes as she struggled with it. With a huff she arched upwards, clothing began flapping and Clint was keeping his eyes shut. He really was not built for underage women with no body conscious . It was a hard life. “He came to visit his brother,” she paused in her unraveling of garments, “at least that's what he said.” Clint could here the indifference in her voice, “If not we'll be hearing about it. Anyway, I caught a ride.”

  
Sadly he was waking up here, “the Hot bit though?” he groaned, wondering why this trauma was necessary. She settled back down, stealing his blanket – Princess -, and sighing heavenly. Clint tested the waters, blinking carefully, “Is that my shirt?”

  
Kate shrugged, a smirk twitching her lips, and proceeded to ignore him, “What? Have you seen him lately, some magic voodoo made him insanely hot. I think I even saw the dream duo stare at his ass,” she grinned as Clint tried not to barf. “I know I was,” she added absently. Clint released a sound reminiscent of a cows calling, throwing a forearm over his head to block out the horrors.

  
Was this what it was like being near him? He was pretty sure he didn't talk about ex-cons asses so much, but he couldn't really say for sure. Maybe there were a few times, and Nat had to set him straight, which he didn't listen to anyway. So, fine, that happened. “That happened,” he deadpanned. Kate sniggered into her palm. With that, there was literally no getting angry at her. Silly princess, his lips twitched. He kicked the blanket off his ankles, “So why you here Katie-Kate? What happened?” he asked, throat scratchy, pretty sure he wasn't getting any zzz's with his curiosity still up. Anyway, it was a great night for a heart to heart. Not that he had much prowess in that but sure, whatever, new experiences and stuff like that.

  
She smiled softly, a dark look brightening her blue eyes. She didn't look like a kid anymore. Sorry about that, life happens and it's shit. “Nothing much,” she muttered lowly, extending a still delicate palm onto his cheek. She brushed some fringe out of his vision and something in Clint squeezed, high in his gut. She was perfect, just look at her, perfect. She stroked his stubble with her thumb, the smile waning and relaxing over her baby blue eyes. Her skin was soft, barely marred with nicks, while his was gritted and rugged, hard to yield. He knew which he preferred. “I'll be good, wanna sleep,” she slipped her fist into the sheets and tucked it over her shoulder. “Night, Hawkeye.”

  
“Yeah, night Hawkeye,” he replied as she yawned into the sheet, buried her head into a pillow and curled slightly into herself. She would be asleep in a few seconds and well, he wouldn't. There was a shuffle by the bed, and quite soon the bed dipped experimentally. “Come here Lucky,” he whispered, patting beside him. The half blind mutt sniffed Kate, she petted him absently already spiraling to her dreams. In the end Lucky slept with his bottom to them, curling into the arch of Kate's position and setting a loose paw on his forearm. Clint ruffled his head, he received a lazy lick.

  
His lips twitched, shuffling onto his back and just breathed, spying them out the corner of his eye. Kate was perfect, just look at her. The kid he never had, and more the family than he'd ever willingly tried to carve. It never worked out when he did it. Kate could do that though, make a family out of a Carnie with a weapon from the paleolithic era and a dog he'd almost gotten killed. But if anyone was the parent it was Katie-Kate, too smart for her own good.

  
So yeah, even though it was three in the morning and he'd been partially fed to a creature who never got house trained a few hours ago. Things were alright...Except... he glanced at the rise of fall of Kate's chest...she was just a kid, and wasn't...Oh, Clint knew what happened. Wasn't her old man back in town? It had been a while since he'd been around, wasn't it? Clint should really remember these things. Wasn't she moving in for the month or so? He hadn't invited but it was pretty damn obvious, she already had a key and did most of the groceries.

  
He massaged his nose, he was not making it as a respectable adult. Anyway, whatever he could do to make her life a tad easier, even thought she had more money than Clint had ever had in his first 3 decades combined, he would do, coin wasn't everything. And if a Carnie runaway has said that, ain't that the truth. So yeah, he had to step up his game.

  
He yawned into his fist, sinking into his side and drifting off as Kate breathed easy.

  
Course about 20 minutes later the alarms went off because Thor and Loki had gotten into some argument about their magical floating castle.

  
Clint groaned, “No,” he objected, burying into his pillow.

  
Kate whined, “Mute,” the sound broke off, and she sighed heavily, burying into her pillow.

  
What did he say, perfect. And the two drifted off to sleep, not even conscious as the mansion shook hard twice and the sun filtered through the windows. Course Nat managed to string him up by his abused ankle at about eight in the morning and landed partially on Kate to barks, who had a mean right swing which he thankfully dodged.

  
Still blinking sleep out of his eyes and Lucky craving lazy attention, he says, “Morning Hawkeye.”

  
She grins, patting his cheek, “Morning Hawkeye,” and rubbed the sleep from her face.

  
Maybe today he would be dinner for unknown creatures, or cause irreversible damage to his utterly human body, again. Or maybe it would be a day where he couldn't even find his hearing aids and ate pizza. That sounded heavenly actually. He ruffled Kate's hair which she swatted away exasperatedly, and they raided the Avengers fridge. He may have eaten Hulk's pickles but he was out of town so he had some time at least to run replacements. “He's going to eat you,” Kate had muttered into her cereal.

  
Clint grinned, “I'd like to see him try,” he munched his pickles. Kate's lips twitched.

  
And that's a night, well, and morning with Hawkeye and Hawkeye. It was kind of awesome, and had surprisingly little amount of violence. Not that that lasted long; that evening Hulk settled back in and Clint had to escape back to their apartment with an exasperated Katie-kate by his side.

  
Yeah, just look at his life. It's perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I was bored, and I saw the lack of ficlets like this so, I decided to write something up. I hope you enjoyed, comments would be marvelous :D


End file.
